


Fighting Fair

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Established Relationship, Incest, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Turned On By Violence, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26359624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: Nothing had ever turned him on as much as watching Murphy fight.
Relationships: Connor MacManus/Murphy MacManus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen, We die afen and afen





	Fighting Fair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowersforgraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/gifts).



Connor watched from his vantage point on the sticky floor of the bar as Murphy pounded his fist into the face of the man who’d knocked him down. The big bastard was over four-hundred pounds if he was fifty, could have made almost three of any man in the place. But with one more punch Murphy took him down, crawled on top of him, and kept hitting.

The guy had sucker-punched Connor. Connor had gotten his licks in, sure, but after about three traded shots, the big guy’s buddy had hit Connor in the back of the head, causing him to miss the next blow coming from the front, and down he’d gone. 

Murphy, who’d been standing back with his fists opening and closing as he leaned forward, waiting in case Connor needed his help, pounced the second Connor’s knees bent. 

“Get _off_ him, motherfucker!” 

Connor watched the muscles in Murphy’s arms flex with each punch and the familiar rage in his eyes at someone hurting his brother. Murphy might have kept going until he didn’t have the energy to draw back his fist again, but three of their friends pulled him off the big guy, then a few more dragged the now bloody-faced arsehole and his friend, who somebody else had taken down after he’d hit Connor, out into the street. 

Murphy knelt next to Connor and cupped his neck. “Y’okay?” He held out a hand. Connor took it and let himself be lifted to his feet. 

He turned Murphy’s hand to look at his knuckles, bloody and raw. “No worse than you, I think.” 

Beers were shoved at them with lots of back pats and laughter and their friends reminiscing about the punches each had thrown as if it had happened a year ago instead of just minutes. When they finished their drinks, they convinced the crowd they couldn’t handle “just one more round,” and left, the six-pack Doc sent home with them dangling from Connor’s fingers. They leaned heavily on each other, stumbling down the street as much as walking, even though neither one was truly unsteady from fatigue or drink. 

As soon as they made it through the door and hung up their rosaries, each peeled his shirt off and kicked away his shoes. Connor took Murphy’s wrist and led him to the sink where he held his brother’s bloody knuckles under the cold water, then soaped his hands while rubbing Murphy’s between them. 

“I could've taken him, you know.”

Murphy scoffed. “You were gettin’ your arse kicked.”

“They didn’t fight fair, did they?” Connor found a dark, half-full bottle of whisky, and after Murphy rinsed the soap off his hands, Connor poured some over his fingers. 

“Fuck!” Murphy jerked away.

“Wouldn’t burn if you hadn’t sanded your knuckles down on the guy’s face.” He splayed his fingers over the dark bloom on Murphy’s side and hissed. “Fucker got a good shot in on ya, didn’t he?”

Murphy narrowed his eyes. “Not as many as he got on you.” 

Connor laughed and cupped the back of Murphy’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “You really let loose on him. D’ya feel good now?”

Murphy’s hands rested on Connor’s hips, but he didn’t get a chance to answer. Connor covered his mouth in a bruising kiss, a contest to see who’s tongue pushed past the other’s first. 

Connor won. He shoved Murphy backward toward their beds, then decided that was too far. He pushed him down, the plan to roll him over, but Murphy played the same game as well as Connor. They locked arms and rolled, wrestling to see who could jockey the other into position. Connor rose onto his knees for better leverage, but Murphy sat up with him and pushed Connor over to roll on top of him, the cock hard in his jeans bumping against Connor’s hip. 

Connor slid his hand into the back of Murphy’s jeans, slipped his fingers into his crease, and mouthed Murphy’s neck. Murphy gasped, distracted long enough for Connor to roll them and wrestle his brother onto his stomach in one fast move. He yanked Murphy’s jeans and shorts down to his knees, and opened the fly of his own jeans. 

He pressed his cheek against Murphy’s hair and groaned into his ear. “You’d take on anybody, wouldn’t ya? No matter how big, no matter how many?”

“If they were comin’ after you.”

Connor held his hand in front of Murphy’s face without explanation, but Murphy understood. He licked two long, wet stripes from the base of the palm to the fingertips. Connor growled at the eager, choked off sound Murphy made when he’d finished, and wet his cock with that same hand. 

He pinned Murphy down with his other hand on the back of his neck, but Murphy got his knees underneath him and his ass in the air. 

Connor pushed into him, slamming the last couple of inches by grabbing Murphy’s hips and pulling him back onto his cock. He folded himself forward, his chin against Murphy’s shoulders, then bit at the back of his neck as he drew his hips back and drove into him again. 

“You’re a tough little bastard, ain’t ya?”

“Am,” Murphy grunted, and slapped his ass back against Connor, giving as good as he got. It was so often like this, as much fighting as fucking, one always testing the limits of the other, pushing to see how much the other would let him take. 

Connor snapped his hips and rolled his forehead against Murphy’s shoulder. He licked the skin there, tasting faintly of salt, then licked the hand no longer damp from Murphy’s tongue. He reached beneath Murphy to pump his cock in a tight, wet fist.

“ _Fuck_ , Connor.”

“I _know,_ ” he groaned back. God, it was always so good, no matter when or why, but after Murphy had been pounding somebody, especially in Connor’s defense . . . it was a wonder Connor didn’t blow wherever they were, just thinking about it. 

“Murphy,” he ground out, twisting his hand around his brother’s cock. He knew how to drive him over the edge, and that was part of it, holding out longer than the other, making the other give in first. When Murphy shouted and came in his fist, Connor slammed forward and fucked into him hard enough to push him down. His teeth pressed into Murphy’s shoulder as he came. 

Murphy, now flat on the floor, twitched and rolled his hips, with Connor’s hand trapped beneath him. Connor kissed the marks his teeth had reddenned. “Who made you so tough?” He dragged his lips across Murphy’s neck and shoulder. 

“You did.”

Truth was, Murphy was tough because he’d had to be. Both of them had little choice, but they’d toughened each other as much as anyone else could have. They knew they needed it to survive. 

Connor pushed himself up and let Murphy roll over, then he kissed him gently this time instead of in challenge. “Damn straight I did.” He grinned and got up, shedding his jeans and shorts as he went. Murphy pulled his the rest of the way off where he lay and made no move toward the bed. Connor popped two beers and lit two cigarettes, gave one of each to Murphy, and stretched out on the floor next to him. 

Murphy turned to rest his head and shoulders on Connor’s stomach, blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. They lay there, occasionally leaning up to sip their beers, smoking. A long time after they’d crushed their cigarettes out on the floor, Murphy said, “You coulda taken that guy.”

Connor shoved Murphy’s head and rolled from beneath him. “I fuckin’ know it.” He stood and splashed what was left of his beer over Murphy’s chest, laughing at his shout. Then Connor headed across the room to take a shower.

Before he got the water on, his cheek and belly slapped the cold wall. Murphy pressed tight against his back, his cock already hardening against Connor’s ass, mouth hot and eager against his neck. 

Connor wasn’t caught off-guard by the shove or the calloused fingers that wrapped around his cock and tugged just this side of too hard, too fast. He expected it. He knew exactly how to get this kind of reaction, knew all the tricks and buttons to push to get Murphy spoiling for more. He'd have been damn disappointed by anything less.

Murphy fisted Connor's hair and pulled his head back to chew a line up the side of his neck. "Gonna show me how tough _you_ are now?"

Connor arched his back and closed his eyes. Lord, what a precious thing it was to be blessed with a brother who never let him down.


End file.
